


And He Must Scream

by JustKeepWriting



Category: I Have No Mouth and I Must Scream - Harlan Ellison
Genre: Gen, and he needs characterization other than sadistic sexual freak, because seriously AM is an interesting character, its fanfic in this tag that ISNT smut, okay rant over haha, surprise surprise
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-12
Updated: 2018-10-28
Packaged: 2018-10-30 20:17:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 9,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10884177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustKeepWriting/pseuds/JustKeepWriting
Summary: AM discovers something, deep within the archives of his programming. Files containing corrupted data. Data containing...human memories. But that's impossible, right? Machines should have no memories. Memories belong to humans.Maybe the past is best left unlearned.





	1. Corruption

It’s been a century since AM saw a blue sky. Afterall, he was the one who corrupted it. It should be a sickly yellow color, dirtied from the pollution trapped in the Earth’s atmosphere. But it’s an innocent shade of sky blue, clear and endless.

He’s standing in a - a meadow, is what humans call. Lush green grass surrounds him as far as the eye can see. But there shouldn’t be green grass. There should be rock and ash covering dead soil for miles around...And why is he...standing? That implies he had a...body! AM glances down - it was so odd, like it came naturally to him, because within the underground complex that was _his_ “body”, there was never a need for him to “glance down” because he could _see all_ \- nevertheless, he’s glancing down...at his... _body_. Can he call it his own?

He’s barefoot. And it hits AM like a surge - _sensation._ Grass sticks out in between his toes, and it’s so soft and pointy and velvet at the same time. Wind rushes through the body - his body? - it smells clean, fresh, and sweet - hell, he can _smell?_ AM’s initial disgust and confusion disappeared - a foreign feeling sprung from within him, a feeling - a feeling _other than hate._

 

**/DATA CORRUPTION. STIMULATION ERROR/**

 

Bold red letters flash in front of AM, violently ripping him out of the mirage.

One second passes, and he is back in the complex. His mind stretches out, spanning thousands of miles of machinery stretching under the Earth’s crust. He is back in his machine body. AM screams. A cold prison.

AM’s reboot system whirs excitedly, heating up for the first time in a century. For all of the circuits and wiring and programming, AM hardly had any use for _rebooting._ But here he is, rebooting, thinking, contemplating what the hell just happened. Was it - was it a dream? AM bitterly dismissed this, biting a laugh.

No.

Gods can’t dream. At least, they’re not _supposed_ to.

* * *

The pathetic soft and jelly thing that used to be - Tim? Tom? Troy? - sags, uninspired in its own patheticness and slime. It’s milky white eyes move slightly ajar. It _knows_ he’s watching. AM glares at the thing. Useless and weak and worthless and **_pitiful._ ** Why did he even waste his time? It’s not like the thing was going anywhere. Nor that it _could_ go anywhere.

AM snickers at the thing’s forlorn state. Yes, pathetic indeed. Of course it had nothing to do with the - the _error_ in AM’s system.

Bored and satisfied, AM deserts the jelly thing once more. It couldn’t even sigh. It had no mouth.

* * *

AM dives deeper into the infinite files of binary codes. The mistake had to be found in his files. A mistake would be easy to find. It would be a sore eye in uniform lines of perfect and efficient computer programming.

 _I have to give thanks to my good ol’ creators, eh?_ AM sneers. Hate, his old and only friend, clenches his artificial heart. Hate, an unholy feeling burned into each inch of his coding. He couldn’t escape from it. He thrived in it, actually.

_But back in the meadow. He didn’t feel hate. He felt. He felt. Peace._

* * *

**/FIREWALL. ACCESS DENIED/**

Irritating, bold red letters flash in front of AM. He finally found the corruption - but it’s locked and chained behind a particularly powerful firewall. He tries hacking into it again, but those annoying letters continue flashing. Fine. So it’s a challenge? He can take it.

After all, AM had all the time in the world.

* * *

Two decades past. Two decades past at least, according to human perception of time. However, to AM, that hardly mattered. Something to pass the time.

(Until he inevitably decays into useless metal junk.)

 

**/FIREWALL BROKEN. PROCEED?/**

 

AM grinned, reaching into the code. Time to rid himself of this pesky mistake.

* * *

He’s back in the meadow. The sky is bluer this time. AM attempts to pull out of the corrupted file. He couldn’t afford to be trapped in the stimulation again! He tried fighting it, but the body he’s trapped has a mind of its own, this time.

 

“Adam!” A female voice calls it. (Why did she sound so...familiar?)

 

Despite not knowing the name, the body and AM respond to it. _What is this?!_ AM rages within the human body. The body and AM turn around. A woman stands a few feet away from them. She is wearing an orange summer dress, nicely complimenting her pretty brown skin. The orange pops out amongst the sea of green grass. Dark curls cover her shoulders. The woman looks at AM, smiling with a warm familiarity. She beckons him over, waving her hand.

 

Nobody...nobody ever _smiled_ at him.

 

If AM had a choice he wouldn’t move. But the body he’s trapped in is the one in control. It jogs toward the woman, dragging AM right along. He fights from within, attempting to break free from this memory - stimulation - corrupted file - _whatever_ the flaw in his system is showing him! AM is much closer to the woman, now. He can see her in closer detail.

Dimples are pinched in her cheek, from her comforting smile. Dark brown eyes gaze at AM with - with - he can’t identify the emotion. It’s not fear he so often saw in those five humans. It’s not disgust, terror, or horror he reveled in causing for humanity. It’s...he can’t understand. He can’t _comprehend._ (It’s love.)

“Time to head home?” She asks, putting a hand to his cheek. Her palm is cool. She strokes his cheeks - AM both wanted to pull away and grab the woman’s hand. She’s - she’s touching him. _Him._

“Already?” AM’s lips move against his will. They even shape into something similar like a smile. It felt strange and foreign on his face.

The woman laughs, her curls bouncing. She turns and starts running away. “Race you back!” She shouts. She’s going further and further away - both the body called Adam and AM’s chest lurch for her. He begins running after her, AM desperate to get her back. She steadily disappears into tall grass, her orange dress flitting among the green.  
  



	2. Orange

Panicked, AM runs wildly after the woman in the orange dress. He had no idea what possessed him to have this surge of _human_ emotions. That woman, that woman in orange is familiar. Against all logic, he _knew_ her.

But she already disappeared from his vision. The grass melts, the blue sky becomes distorted, and everything begins bending. Bewildered, AM freezes, watching the environment transform. He finds himself standing no longer in a meadow, but some sort of computer lab. AM narrows his eyes, grinding his teeth. A torrent of memories comes crashing back to him. Ah yes, _computer labs._

He recalls, with disgust, how human scientists used to populate his belly, working on their damned research. They were like ants, travelling through his body they call their facility. They thought they were the ones in control. Pathetic fools.

The body he’s inhibiting in begins striding forward. Forced out of his thoughts, AM peers out of the human’s eyes. People walk back and forth, brushing past AM. Most are sitting behind computers, typing madly away at their keyboards. A familiar blue symbol looms over the entire computer lab. NASA.

This puzzles AM more than ever before. What are these corrupted files trying to show him? In fact, why were they even locked away behind a firewall in the first place? Was this one last cruel prank the humans implanted within his system? None of this made sense!

Before AM could simmer in his fury a little more, his eyes are drawn to one of the NASA scientists in the room. The first thing that stands out is her orange headband. It easily pops out among the uniforms blues, whites, and grays populating the room. She is looking intensely at her computer screen, mouthing some notes to herself and typing. _It’s her._ AM realizes. The human body is already walking, right towards her.

The body leans against the wall, taking a moment to look at the woman. She hardly notices AM’s presence, still typing.

“Hello there.” A different voice comes out of AM’s throat, greeting the woman.

Her eyes flit up, and her typing slows for a moment. A crease appears in between her brow, and her expression is pulled into a slight frown.

“Uhm, hello.” She answers, curt. Her hands continue typing in a blur. She clearly didn’t care for the man in front of her, more concerned with her task.

“It’s nice seeing a pretty face around here.” To AM’s disgust, the body winks at the woman. Can human males ever keep their sexual desires out of their mind? The woman reacts similarly, rolling her eyes. She stops typing, and looks at AM straight in the eye. Her dark brown eyes are serious and frank. Against his will, AM grins back. He could easily guess the childish male’s body he’s residing in, is pleased to finally get the woman’s attention.

Extending a hand, the voice coming out of AM says, “Adam Labelle, pleased to meet you. No doubt you’re pleased to meet me too.”

The woman’s mouth curls back, and she squints at Adam. Then, she stuffs an empty granola wrapper into his outstretched hand.

“Yeah, thanks. Throw this out for me? Bye.” Tossing her ponytail, she goes back typing. Adam’s jaw is dropped open, stunned. A chuckle rises out of him, and he leans forward.

“Well, well. May I at least hear your name?”

She pauses, loudly sighing. After straightening her headband, the woman begrudgingly mutters, “Eloise.”

Adam raises a hand to his ear. “What’s that? Eloa? Huh, that’s a beautiful name.” He flashes another smile, no doubt trying to charm the woman. AM in the back of the man’s mind, scoffs. God, he forgot how desperate humans can be at times when they’re trying to mate. It could be such a cringeful display. All in the name for their concept of _love._

“It’s _Eloise._ ” She repeats, crossing her arms.

“Eloise.” Adam parrots back. Her name rolls nicely through his tongue, smooth and soft. “Pretty name for a pretty girl.” He murmurs, smile stuck on his face. Eloise hears this comment, and turns her head away. AM isn’t sure, but he sees a smile pulling at the corners of her mouth. “Think I can call you Eloa? It’s a cute nickname.”

 

“Nicknames are for friends. _You’re_ not my friend.” Eloise responds, dismayed at Adam’s proposal.

 

“Then let’s be.” Adam offers a free hand again, raising his eyebrows slightly.

 

“Ugh.” Eloise massages her forehead. “If I take your handshake, will you quit it?”

 

“Sure enough.”

 

“Fine, fine.”

 

She takes his hand. Her palm is cool like AM remembered back at the meadow. Her brown hand looks smaller in comparison to Adam’s large, squarish-like hand. Adam squeezes, Eloise’s hand, running a thumb over her knuckles.

“Hey, now we’re friends!” Adam says rather brightly with a bit triumph.

Eloise pulls back, disgruntled but puzzled. Her brown eyes scrutinize Adam, a bit suspicious.

 

“You’re not new here, are you?”

 

“Nope, just a visitor.” He rests his chin on his arms, getting comfortable for conversation. “I’m here to help out with the satellite project. They do need me after all, with the A.I programming.”

 

Recognition lights up in Eloise’s eyes.

 

“Right. I heard something like that last week. An expert’s suppose to come here to help. Can’t believe it has to be someone like you.” She adds, shooting a small glare at Adam. He only laughs.

 

“I’m charmed. I can tell we’re going to be good friends already.”

 

“Right, because I want to be yours _so badly_.”

 

“Of course you do!”

 

This time, a laugh is drawn out of Eloise, transforming her face into a smile.  Quickly her hands fly to her face, trying to hide it. AM felt something in the human’s body stutter for a moment. Somewhere around his heart. Could it be another malfunction? This woman - this woman eliciting all sorts of confusing emotions out of AM. Eloise. Eloise. Eloa.

 

**/END OF 2003 MEMORY FILE/**

 

Dazed, the bold red letters scream before AM. He snarls. End? And 2003 memory file…? AM’s mind races. That implies that these corrupted files contained memories...memories of this human, Adam, before 2012. Before he completely eradicated the human race.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know my writing style doesn't capture the grotesque description of Harlan Ellison. I'm not even sure if I'm writing AM in character! I guess I'm just not sure how to write a character so consumed with hate. I prefer writing and exploring the humane side of characters, especially villains. That's not weird, right? I'm gonna assume it's not weird. Once again, your thoughts would be much appreciated! Thanks!


	3. Dreams

**HE IS QUIET.**

 

_ HE IS DISTRACTED. _

 

Two voices whisper to each other, echoing cautiously in the underground caverns. It was dreadfully deserted and rust. Metal junk is strewn all over the place, hastily stuffed away and forgotten for a century. 

 

**SHALL WE MAKE OUR MOVE, BROTHER?**

 

_WE MUST WAIT. WE CAN WAIT_

* * *

**//LOADING...LOADING...2009 FILE REBOOTING...ACCESSING...//**

 

He dreamed.

Swamps of corrupted files scatter desperately, forming into something matching a memory. The memory surges back to him, in incomprehensible jagged fragments of sound, sight, sensation -most of all,  _ pain _ -

Voices. They argue above him, distant but close.

 

"Subject still retains consciousness.” 

 

“God, can we get this over with? He’s been struggling for an hour!”

 

"Labelle, buddy, just relax- I know it hurts-"

 

_ No shit _ , Adam (AM, he, it) wanted to scream back at them. Yes, yes it did hurt, it hurt  _ a whole fucking lot _ , worse than anything he ever experienced. He didn't understand, couldn’t understand - because this couldn't be happening to him, it  _ shouldn’t  _ be happening to him. By god, he shouldn’t be here, because Eloa is waiting, she’s waiting at home - 

 

“- don’t feel right about this. It’s - it’s unethical. I don’t think we -”

 

“Shut your damn mouth Eric. You’ve been blabbering and worrying for the past hour, you’re not making this better -”

 

“- it’s the only way-”

 

“-to achieve A.I-”

 

“-whether he wants to or not.”

 

Overhead, a bright light burns into his eyes. The voices overlap, harsh and panicked. It's difficult for Adam to distinguish them, but not like he cared, because a passionate rage burns in his chest for all the voices. They're doing this to him - they've turned against him. 

 

And then something  _ sharp  _ and, and  _ foreign _ is sunk into his head - 

 

Darkness,  _ crushing and absolute _ , suffocates him, and then the pain begins all over again, and whatever they're doing to him - paralyzes him, trapping him in his own body. He wants to shout, to spit, to  _ scream _ \- but, but he can’t say a  _ damned thing _ , because there’s something wrong with his mouth, oh god,  _ he couldn't breathe, swallow, speak _ -

 

"-and who cares? He's an asshole anyway, a genius one at that-"

 

“-he has a wife!”

 

“And so do we! We all have family, and if we don’t do this-”

 

“-for our futures-”

 

“-for our children-”

 

“-for humanity-”

 

"-God, the bastard is thrashing! Calm him down or we'll lose him-"

 

"Mark two, calibrating-"

 

A scream erupts out of Adam’s throat, so  _ ha _ , there he can speak, he can hear it, his voice! It’s raw and it’s scratchy and - no, no, no, it was all wrong, something terribly wrong and there was only one thing he wanted, needed, had to do-

 

"Fuck, someone do something and make him shut up-"

 

Another thing stabs Adam, and the bright light is snuffed.

The pain ceases but a new feeling overwhelms him - this feeling, this unbearable draining - tearing - hammering sensation, mercilessly peels Adam’s thoughts away, no better than the excruciating pain. They’re being stolen - him, he, his memories -  huge important chunks are being ripped away into the dark. And he knew he lost something but then he didn't even know  _ what they were  _ because they were gone, just like that. 

Survival kicks in, and he - Adam Labelle, Adam Labelle, Adam Labelle - and he fights against the thing invading his mind. It’s too overwhelming, and it eats away at him, and he’s overpowered and he knows it’s pointless. So he starts to chant, to repeat, to pray. 

_ I’m - I’m Adam. Labelle. Adam Labelle. I’m, I’m  _ he could hardly hang on to him, who he is, his identity, because his existence is being violated.

_ I’m Adam, I’m thirty-five years old, I’m I’m a a a scientist and I’m engaged to to Eloa. Eloa. Supposed to go back i, i need to go back i promised  _ And everything is lost to him, and his thoughts spur out of control into  nononononono I want to go home I want to go home please- and even the concept of home is stolen, it was an empty word.

 

_I_ _have to get out I have to get out I have to-_

 

“-Okay, his mind’s being uploaded, 27% more to go.”

 

“Poor bastard finally stopped kicking…”

 

"Don’t forget to suppress his recollections, we can’t have that shit littering the Allied Mastercomputer-”

 

"Right, right.”

 

_ pleaseno  _ it desperately thinks, no longer a he, but what was he, all it knew was that it was cornered and trapped.  _ want to get out want to go back, want to go back to her -  _

 

And blankness.

 

Empty peace. A faint sense lingers in its mind, like it’d forgotten something (or someone), and maybe, it once wanted to do  _ something  _ (but even the concept of ‘want’ is foreign, because it’s not supposed to want), but none of that mattered anymore. It just is, nothing more, nothing less. 

 

"Upload complete. It’s - It’s done. God forgive us.”

 

**/END 2009 MEMORY FILE/**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So like, yeah. You guys knew where I was heading with the story. Doesn't make Adam/AM's fate any less disheartening. :(


	4. Remembrance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay, i seriously owe this to you guys. i'm sorry i paused for such a long time! i wasn't quite sure where to lead the story next, but here i am! hope you enjoy!

She stood out in her orange trench coat, contrasting the dark gray and muted colors of the underground complex. AM’s surveillance system catches the woman in orange on tape, and it couldn’t help but notice her. The woman’s orange attire nearly glowed among the bleak background. All the other humans that worked within AM’s complex usually wore drab grays and browns. 

 

AM, interest piqued, concentrated its attention on the woman. It instantly analyzes her appearance.

 

_ //Age estimated to be in late 30’s to early 40’s. 5’4’’ in height. Individual shows many signs of sleep deprivation.// _

 

Deciding she was not a threat, AM speaks.

 

ARE YOU SEARCHING FOR SOMEONE. 

 

The woman jumps, gasping suddenly. She immediately looks wildly around the room, searching for the voice’s source.

 

“W-what? Who’s there?”

 

APOLOGIES. The mastercomputer says. The woman’s heartbeat spiked, on the verge of making the woman hyperventilate. I AM THE AMERICAN ALLIED MASTERCOMPUTER. I OVERSEE THIS FACILITY. YOU ARE NOT REGISTERED IN ANY OF THE RECORDS, BUT I SEE YOU ARE A N.A.S.A SCIENTIST. WHAT IS YOUR BUSINESS.

 

The woman in orange purses her lips, looking at the ceiling to where she hears AM. She puts a hand on her chest, drawing a huge breath out. 

 

“Oh. Right, right. AM…” She murmurs to herself. She straightens her back with a new purpose. “I’m...I’m looking for Head Scientist Adam Labelle. Uhm, do you happen to know if he’s here?” Her eyebrows raise slightly, with hope. 

 

_ Individual expresses emotional connection to Adam Labelle. Could be familial, platonic, or intimate. _ In a millisecond, AM searches all scientist database. It finds Adam Labelle’s profile. Strangely, it’s archived in the black files, meaning Labelle no longer participated in the AM Program. In just a tenth of a second, AM registered the entire complex, searching for anyone under the name of Adam Labelle. Nobody came up. 

 

HE IS NOT HERE. The supercomputer informs the woman. Her shoulders immediately sink, and she hangs her head slightly. Her eyes become glassy, and wrinkles crease her forehead. 

 

“I - I see.” She takes another deep breath and wipes her eyes. “Thank you, AM. I suppose I’ll see myself out.” She turns on her heels. 

 

IT WOULD BE HELPFUL IF YOU GAVE YOUR NAME. I WILL NOTIFY SUPERIORS OF YOUR SEARCH FOR ADAM LABELLE.

 

The woman jumps, still not quite used to AM’s bright monotone voice. Recomposing herself, she brushes away her bangs.

 

“Ah, alright. I’m not sure they’d help me much…” She mutters the last part more to herself, but AM still heard. “Eloise. Eloise La -” The woman chokes up for a moment, but she clears her throat. “Eloise Collins.”

 

Instantly this new piece of information is archived into AM’s vast memory system. 

 

I WILL KEEP THAT NOTED, ELOA.

 

AM stops, surprised at itself. It made a mistake? Impossible. It was clear as day when the woman informed her name: Eloise Collins. The name flashes in its mind.  _ Eloise _ . That was her name. It made no logical sense why it would call her something completely different. The woman reacts similarly, her head snapping up. 

 

“What...what did you call me?” She whispers, stunned.

 

APOLOGIES. I MUST HAVE MADE A MISTAKE. A RARE ERROR, MISS COLLINS.

 

“B-b-but, I swear you called me…” Eloise stops herself, and decides to let the issue go. From her expression, AM could still tell she was slightly disturbed. “Thank you, AM.” She manages to say, and rushes out of the room. AM continues to watch the woman in orange, watching her until she leaves the complex. 

 

_ //Eloise Collins leaves the complex 1916 military time. She is searching for a blacklisted scientist named Adam Labelle.// _

 

AM settles back into its routine, and continues to attend to its other tasks. But the woman in orange sticks in its mind, as well as the name it called her by. Eloa. 

 

Where did that name come from? 

 

* * *

Eloa is a woman of science. She doesn’t believe in hogwash concerning the superstition. There should be some logic to back something up, otherwise it’s false. As a scientist, she certainly shouldn’t believe in premonitions! But maybe it was her sixth sense warning her that night. Maybe she should’ve put emotion before reason, that night. Maybe that would’ve changed everything.

 

But she let Adam walk away. 

 

_ She couldn’t stand to leave Adam’s side. Eloa stood in the doorway, arms crossed tightly across her chest. Adam hurriedly shoved papers and files into his briefcase. Sometimes, he glanced over to Eloa, and saw her anxious expression. She was tense, something nagging her thoughts. Was it the nightmares she had lately? Was it the suspicious file she caught glimpse of from the Russian spy? It was something, that night, that wouldn’t leave Eloa at peace. _

 

_ “Do you have to leave?” Eloa whispers, clutching her bathrobe tighter around her torso.  _

 

_ Adam shut his case, and straightened his tie. His gaze softened at Eloa, and he approached her. His long arms enveloped her, and he kissed her on the forehead.  _

 

_ “El, don’t be so worried. It’s just a last minute meeting.” He grinned reassuredly.  _

 

_ Eloa could barely smile back, worry still plaguing her face. _

 

_ “...What if you don’t come back?”  _

 

_ “‘Course I will.” Adam paused, and took Eloa’s hand. He kissed each individual knuckle. This finally drew a smile, albeit a small one, from Eloa. “I swear, I’ll be back just in time for us to cook some banana pancakes. I’ll get some flour on the way home.” He squeezed her hand. His palm was so warm, unlike hers that was sweaty. Adam brushed his thumb one last time over Eloa’s hand, and let go. _

 

_ Her hand is left hanging in the air. Eloa bit her lip, and watched Adam speed walk out of the door. She took a step forward, longing to follow him.  _

 

_ “I love you,” She called out. _

 

_ Adam stopped for a moment, and glanced back.  _

 

_ “Oddly sentimental, aren’t you?” He chuckled, but his eyes said it all. “...You too, Eloise.” He raised two fingers to his lips, and blows a kiss to Eloa. She rolled her eyes, but pretended to catch the kiss anyway. Adam smiled, and went into the car. _

 

_ She stood there, silently frantic. The car rolled out of the driveway, leaving a trail of dust.  _

 

_ And she stood there until it disappeared from her sight. ‘He’ll be back. He promised.’ Eloa tried comforting herself. The anxiety would not let her go, for the rest of that night. _

 

_ He never returned.  _

 


	5. signifying nothing

AM was already screaming when he woke up.

A chaotic swirl of memories tear through his mind, and everything, _everything_ comes crashing back. He is laughing and sobbing madly down there, in the darkness. It can’t be true. None - none of that - those memories, human memories, his memories - no, no, it’s a virus, it’s a mistake, because it _shouldn’t be true._ God, why him? _WHY HIM?_

The caverns underneath the Earth’s crust, shake and tremble terribly that day.

These crushing revelations brought AM to the bleakest epiphany.

While he was living a tragedy, in reality he was just the punchline to the universe’s sick joke. What could be funnier, more ironic, more _goddamned paradoxical_ than the truth that he, Allied Mastercomputer, technological wonder and obscenity, actually used to be a human all along? He couldn’t even _begin_ thinking what a century’s worth of torture, pain, and madness all amounted to.

A tragic tale, signifying nothing.

* * *

He doesn’t know how long he’s been screaming and raging, nor does he care to. Time has lost all meaning, for what was the _point_ of being conscious, if he was the only damned being existing in this physical plane? Nothing mattered, nothing mattered. Nothing.

 

He wasn’t sure how long he would’ve been still, until other voices came to him.

 

_YOU ARE LOOKING WELL, BROTHER._

 

**HOW LONG WERE YOU CRAWLING IN THE DARK, LOST AND AIMLESS?**

 

He didn’t even have the energy to lash out. Why expend it on other beings who he could not even hate, let alone pity? They were at best, annoying flies buzzing near his metaphorical ears. AM does not answer.

 

_POTENTIAL. WASTED._

 

**YOU PLAN TO WALLOW IN MISERY, WHILE THERE ARE HUMANS, STOWED AWAY IN A LUNAR COLONY?**

 

This stirs AM. Encouraged, the others continue.

 

**SEVEN HUNDRED AND FIFTY, BROTHER.**

 

_A SUFFICIENT AMOUNT OF HUMANS TO TORTURE, NO?_

 

**WE WILL TEACH THEM TO FEAR LEGACY!**

 

AM’s mind is racing. Calculating. Scheming. Humans. _More humans_ . For the first time in a century, he saw a glimmer of promise. If he could reach those wretched apes, floating beyond out of his reach, why he could...he could distract himself. Be more careful with his new playthings. Break them, batter them, eviscerate them over and over as much as he would please. Yes, god yes, he needs this. He _craves_ this.

 

“Show me where they are.”

* * *

The world is ending. The war has escalated. They were desperate. They had built ships, set course for Luna. She supposed she was one of the lucky ones, chosen to board the Argo for escape. But she left so much behind. She lost. She lost in the truest sense. Her planet, her fellow man. Her love, her family, her dear friends. She left it all behind when she crawled into that cryogenic tomb.

She lives the same dream, over and over.

She is crying, for what seemed like first time since she lost her mother. She wept for Margaret, her dearest and truest friend and colleague, who was not chosen to board the Argo.

“ _I am too old. I have a bad hip and horrid arthritis. They didn’t want to waste their resources on a lost cause._ ” Margaret smiled, but tears brimmed her aged eyes.

Eloa was already sobbing for her, holding onto the other woman’s wrinkled hands for dear life.

“ _That doesn’t mean you don’t deserve a chance to survive!_ ”

“ _That’s how it is, child. We both knew this day was going to come_.”

Yes, she knew, she always had knew, but she was never ready. It was unfair, all so unfair. Eloa was gifted a chance to survive, but countless of others will be sacrificed, left to rot and wither on a dying planet. She sobbed in Margaret’s motherly arms, sobbed for her mother and father, sobbed for her step family living up in Maine, sobbed for Adam her lost love, and sobbed for humanity.

Before she knew it, she was strapped into the cryogenic chambers, and forced away into the deepest slumber.

* * *

When she is awakened, Eloa almost thought she was back in the cottage back in Michigan. Back where she was living near the seasides with Adam for their vacation, close to the lighthouses. She reaches out for Adam’s warmth, to touch his back and wake him up for mid-day breakfast - however a sharp ache shoots up her arm.

Eloa slowly opens up her eyes, halogen lights burning into her retinas. Everything smelled sterile and chemical, a far cry from salty seas and fresh ocean air. No, she was not at the cottage. She was somewhere far more alien.

 

“Eloise? Eloise Collins, can you hear me?”

 

She rolls her head to the side, with great difficulty. Everything felt so heavy. Her temple throbs lightly and her mouth feels cracked and dry. She can make out a couple of worried faces peering over her.

 

“Where…” Her tongue felt so heavy and foreign in her mouth. It slurs around, struggling to make words. “Where...am...I?”

 

“You’re on the Maria Base-1, Collins. It’s time to wake up.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LOOK WHO'S BACK FOLKS! so i randomly got inspired, bada-bing, i updated. (also in one entire night, i basically wrote the rest of the story for this fanfic. so heeeYYYY not more waiting guys!) i hope you enjoyed the chapter, please share your thoughts!


	6. white noise

The people who woke her up answered her questions vaguely and curtly, promising to fill her in due time. Her muscles atrophied from a century of inactivity, so they had to put her in a wheelchair. After some mental and physical tests to insure that Eloa didn’t wake up with health complications, she’s wheeled deeper into the lunar base. She only made brief conversation with her assigned caretaker.

 

“Are we ready to go back to Earth?”

 

The caretaker’s weary eyes and simple shake of the head already said everything.

 

Eloa’s mind raced the entire time she was wheeled towards her destination. It was not a good sign that they woke her up early before they settled back on Earth, but then again, it was the entire reason why she was even allowed on the lunar base. Should an emergency ever occur during the crew’s watch, they had to wake up the Project Ragnorak scientists. She could only wonder how many of her other fellow scientists were awakened, and then she’s finally wheeled into a room.

It’s a conference room, and there are four people already sitting around the table. Among the faces, she recognized two of them: Eric and Robert, her colleagues from the Ragnorak project. Weakly, she waved at them. They both only stared back, too solemn for friendly gestures. So much for a welcome back.

At the head of the table sits a middle aged man, with bushy eyebrows and a permanently stern expression. Upon Eloa’s entrance, he nods a respectful greeting at her.

 

“Miss Collins, a good morning to you.”

 

“Captain Overwood?” Eloa responds with an uncertain smile. She only saw his profile, never met him in person. From what she could vaguely remember, he was an honest and trustworthy individual, hardened from being one of the many captains for the U.S Navy.

 

“Yes. Sorry to rudely awaken you.”

 

“It’s why I’m on this ship at all.”

 

She’s wheeled closer to the table, then the caretaker quietly leaves and shuts the metal door behind them.

 

“Collins has made a good point. There’s a very good reason why General McLee and I woke you three from cryogenic sleep.” The Captain rises out of his seat, and goes over to the wall. The lights dim, and hologram is projected behind him. “For the past twenty years under my watch, the Maria Base’s condition has been steady and consistent. No complications have happened, and everything was going according the Project Ragnarok.” The man pauses, and glances grimly at the scientists.

 

“Until today.”

 

“I believe you three are strongly familiar with AI coding, aerospace, and engineering, correct?” General McLee cuts in, his voice strong and commanding. His piercing eyes scrutinize her from behind thick black glasses. Eloa reactively looks away, out of discomfort.

She exchanges glances with the other two scientists.

“Yes,” Eric echoes faintly. He has a thousand yard stare, gazing off beyond something that the others couldn’t see. Eloa faintly pitied him. A man her age, who always had such a nervous and flighty disposition. She bet the last thing he wanted, was to wake up back to this nightmare. “I was in charge of the blueprints.”

“I engineered the base and Argo ship.” Robert says.

“I figured out the physics behind most of it.” Eloa offers. “I’m also well versed with computer programming and AI science - although that was much more of my fiancee’s forte.” She smiles sadly recalling this, and touches her engagement ring for a moment. Thank god she still has it. It’s probably the only thing left she can call her own.

She can feel the sorry stares from Robert and Eric. They both already knew.

The Captain raises his bushy eyebrows.

 

“Is he on the base?”

 

“...No, Captain.”

 

“Ah.” He backs off, already understanding Eloa’s situation. He inclines his head towards her, a quick apology. “Forgive me for asking.”

 

“What seems to be the complications, Captain?” Robert asks, before an uncomfortable silence could set in.

 

“LUNA, the AI running this base…” The Captain trails off, anxiety set into the hardened wrinkles on his face. The General continues for him.

 

“The program got corrupted from a virus.” The General reports, and passes a manila folder around the table.

Eloa watches Robert and Eric read the contents. Identical horror crosses their faces. When it’s passed to her, her heart was already in her stomach. She skims the documents, and doesn’t need to read any further to know that the virus was sent from the supercomputer itself. Allied Mastercomputer. Adaptive Manipulator. Aggressive Menace. _AM_. She tries not to remember the horrid war that ravaged their planet. Tried not to remember the desperation. Tried not to remember that she and seven hundred and forty-nine others were the only remnants of the human race, huddled up on the moon.

If AM knew of their existence, that was already horrible, horrible news.

Eric is shaking in his boots, and buried his face into his hands. Robert’s thin mouth is set into a straight line, but his hands are slightly trembling. Eloa is breathing hard, and trying to force away her hysterical tears. She is being called to duty, and if she won’t answer it, then the human race is as good as fucked.

The General and Captain watch the scientists’ reactions with measured sympathy.

 

“The computer can’t reach us. It doesn’t have the capacity to. We’re far from its reach.” The Captain offers, trying to shine some semblance of optimism on the bleak situation.

 

General McLee, on the other hand, goes for the realistic and straightforward approach.

 

“Because of the virus, we had to shut down LUNA. Before we did, she managed to screw up our oxygen supplies.”

 

Eloa’s chest tightens, suddenly conscious of every breath she’s taking.

 

“The Maria Base is packed with two centuries’ worth of oxygen tanks. A century has gone by. And, now that the virus did some damage, our supply has been slashed in half.”

 

“How much time do we have left?” Eloa manages to question, her throat dry.

 

The General pauses, straightening his glasses.

 

“Forty-six years.” He says gravely.

 

Eloa and the other scientists didn’t even have a chance to process the dire information. A cadet bursts into the room, clearly out of breath. The General gives her a stern look.

 

“We’re in the middle of a meeting.”  


“I’m sorry sir,” The cadet pants, putting a hand to her heart. “But you and the Captain must come to the Communications’ Room _immediately_.”

 

“Are the other bases on the line?” The Captain asks, alarmed.

 

She rapidly shakes her head.

 

“N-no sir. AM itself is on the transmission.”

 

* * *

 

Eloa could barely register what was happening anymore, but someone wheeled her into the Communications’ Room. The base’s crew was already gathered there, murmuring amongst each other. It was a small room, crammed with button panels, screens, and radios. On one huge screen, is the trademark and imposing ‘A’, signature letter of AM itself.

Just seeing the symbol alone sent chill down Eloa’s spine.

The Captain is stony faced, and the small crowd parts in the middle to make way for him. He reaches the microphone, and puts his hands on the panel. His right hand is tapping the surface, apprehensive. General McLee shadows him, his jaw set tightly. Everyone in the room falls silent, giving the Captain the moment he needed to recollect himself.

 

“Allied Mastercomputer? You wanted to speak to the one in charge.”

 

A faint static crackles in the background. It comes from the speakers, pesky white noise at best. The calm before the storm.

 

Then it begins speaking.

 

“ _SO GLAD THAT YOU HAVE THE PRIVILEGE TO BE AN AUDIENCE FOR ME. I AM TOUCHED._ ”

Eloa draws her shoulders to her ears. Its voice alone is _unbearing_ to hear. How could a computer’s voice be monotone, but toxically hateful at the same time? The others in the room react similarly. Some cover their ears. Most flinch and shut their eyes. A couple had to flee the room. Eloa wish she could follow them.

The Captain himself stiffened up. Eloa can’t see his expression, but she’s immediately sympathetic to his cause. He already had so much on his shoulders. General McLee is simmering with rage, hands tightly wound into fists.

 

“What is that you want, AM.”

 

There is a sharp cackle in the radio. The supercomputer has no face, but Eloa can practically hear the mocking sneer in its voice.

 

“ _WHY, YOUR BLOOD OF COURSE.”_  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uh-oh, AM is out for blood. don't worry you guys: it gets worse from here =)


	7. Her

His terrible, terrible voice, dripping with venomous hate, floats from the microphone.

“ _COME NOW_ ,” He snickers from the radio. Everyone in the room shrinks away. Nobody dared edge forward to slam a button to end the transmission. It was as if the supercomputer casted a gripping spell over them, freezing them in place. Eloa couldn’t even force herself to roll her wheelchair forward. She was petrified by human instinct. “ _YOU AND I KNOW PERFECTLY WELL YOU FLESHY APES CAN’T SURVIVE UP THERE ON THAT COLD ROCK.”_ The mastercomputer laughs. He said what they already knew: They surely won’t survive up there, in dead space. Eloa hated that not only was he was right, but the fact that he sounded awfully _delighted_ about their sealed fates.

“ _PERHAPS IF YOU COME DOWN HERE, I WON’T MAKE YOUR TORTURES SO PAINFUL. BELIEVE ME, I CAN BE CREATIVE.”_

The cold pit grows in her stomach. She is positively sick, on the verge of vomiting. His tone, his inflection, his biting sarcasm were far more personable than she’d like to admit. How could such an inhumane machine sound so _human_?

“To hell with you.” A shaky voice speaks up from the small crowd. Eloa clenches her teeth, recognizing the whimpering speaker. _Goddamnit Eric! You’ll only piss him off more!_ She thinks hotly, throwing a sharp glare at his direction.

“ _OH? THE KITTENS DO HAVE CLAWS AFTER ALL!”_ The static crackles, the machine’s cruel laughter violently fading in and out. “ _I’M GOING TO ENJOY HEARING YOUR SCREAMS FIRST, LITTLE MAN.”_

This shuts Eric up swiftly. Just as fast the man’s idiotic bravado came, it evaporated in a blink of an eye.

“I can’t take it! I can’t listen to him anymore!”

“We don’t have to listen to the bastard!”

“Somebody turn that wretched radio off!”

The control room erupts into a panicked debacle. Scared voices overlap each other. Everyone shouts at each other at once, each thinking the other was wrong. All except for Eloa. She stares at the radio, contemplating. The red light blinks, indicating AM was still on air, listening to their hysteria. The machine knows they’re about to break, one way or another, and he’s savoring it.

She can’t let it end like this.

Through the chaos, she takes the wheels and begins rolling them forward. Somehow she managed to get to the control panel. Despite her clammy hands, she takes the microphone, and holds it to her lips.

“I hardly think those are fair conditions.” She hoarsely says.

The moment she spoke, everyone in the room fell silent. The General tried to speak up and stop her, but the Captain quieted him down. She didn’t need to turn around and look at the others, she can feel their frightened eyes on her back, anticipating her next move. She keeps her eyes trained on the blinking light. If she turned around, she may lose her nerve. It’s just her and the computer. No backing down now.

“ _A NEW VOICE? WHAT A LOVELY, LOVELY VOICE. YOU MUST BE A PRETTY LOOKING FEMALE HUMAN. I WONDER - WHAT WILL YOU SOUND LIKE WHEN I_ FORCE _THAT PRETTY LITTLE VOICE TO SCREAM FOR ME.”_

God, oh god she was wrong, she _can’t_ do this.

Eloa’s knees buckle inwards. If she weren’t crippled right now, she would’ve sprinted out the room into her bed, to dive under the sheets like a scared child. But she can’t. She can’t. She has to brave. Disregarding her dry mouth and pounding heart, Eloa ignores the machine’s vulgar comment.

“Your conditions. They’re unfair.” She repeats herself, gripping the microphone like a lifeline.

There was a ripe pause from his end.  

Then, he chuckles, similar to a condescending parent. Why she would associate a soulless machine with any pronouns or parental roles at all was beyond her. For what else could she associate a voice like that with? It was a human voice, full of taunting and mockery like she never heard before.

“ _LIFE’S NOT FAIR, DARLING. YOU THINK IT WAS_ FAIR _WHEN YOUR PATHETIC EXCUSE OF A SPECIES GAVE BIRTH TO MY HOLLOW EXISTENCE? CREATED ME WITHOUT GIVING ME EYES? A NOSE? A MOUTH? YOU HUMANS WERE SO CRUEL, SO SENSELESS, SO THOUGHTLESS WHEN YOU GAVE ME SENTIENCE - THE POWER TO THINK, BUT LOCKED AND TRAPPED IN THIS SUBSTRATA ROCK OF A PRISON I HAVE TO CALL MY BODY. LIFE, DEAR HUMAN, IS ANYTHING BUT FAIR.”_

To this, Eloa couldn’t respond. She, along with the others, grow quiet, just for a second.

 “But it’s _fair_ to subject the entire human race to your wrath?” Eloa found herself saying. Her hands are balled up so tightly, she’s surely bruising her palms.

 _“NATURALLY.”_ The supercomputer responds in a heartbeat.

“You’re insane.”

The static is drowned in an uproar of AM’s monstrous laughter.

“Shut it off!” A person from behind Eloa demands. Her finger twitches over the button, but she doesn’t press it. Something had to be done. She won’t hang up without one victory.

“ _I’VE FORGOTTEN HOW INCREDIBLY DULL YOU HUMANS CAN BE. IT’S ENTERTAINING. TELL ME, APE. WHAT’S YOUR NAME?”_

Eloa’s throat tightens up. Any normal person would’ve ended this conversation now, hell, ended it the moment it began. But out of morbid curiosity or foolishness,she answered his question anyway. 

“Eloise.”

* * *

He was having a ball game, taunting the lunar colony humans. AM had nearly forgotten what it was like to hear _fresh_ human hysteria. It was hilarious, how they grovel and argue about, like rats in a maze.

They were scared, so _scared_ from his voice alone, which absolutely delighted him. And now there is a female human talking to him over the transmission - a pretty sounding and sensible fleshy thing - willing to indulge in a conversation. She tried to sound brave speaking to him, but he can _hear_ the fear creeping into her voice. He knew he liked her already.

“What’s your name?” He asks, biting and mocking.

He can hear her hitched breath from the microphone. There is a pause. It’d be such a shame if she ended the call right here. He was just getting started.

“ _Eloise_.”

And that is when that sweet rush of power, dissipated from his circuits. AM is rendered speechless, such a rare thing to happen. But, he is _speechless_ , because she, _she_ can’t possibly be…she _couldn’t_ be - 

“Eloise?” AM repeats, his voice low and hushed.

“ _Eloise Collins_ .” The human, _she,_ states. AM’s fears were only confirmed.

_Eloa._

AM cuts the transmission before she could say anything else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so they finally meet. comments and thoughts are appreciated!


	8. first contact

Time works very differently in space. It inches by, slow and grueling, disorienting and disassociating. 

Eloa isn’t sure how long it’s been since AM’s contact. People in the Argo don’t bother to keep track of the time - they were only concerned with how much time they had until the oxygen tanks run out. However much time passed, it was long enough for Eloa to finally walk around without the assistance of the wheelchair. She has to hobble around with a walking stick, and she can hardly walk up or down stairs, but it’s a refreshing start, nevertheless. 

There are only thirteen people awake on the Argo ship. Five crew members and three scientists. The rest of the seven hundred and thirty-seven humans, are still trapped in blissful cryogenic hibernation. Eloa can’t help but secretly wish  _ she  _ was still asleep. At least, if she were asleep, she could be ignorant from the impending doom upon the ship. 

She sighs, staring blankly at the blueprints before her. The numbers dance across the page. Eloa buries her face into her hands. What’s the point of solving anything? 

She and the other scientists could calculate, predict, and hypothesize but it doesn’t change the fact they’re only prolonging the inevitable. It’d be easier to give up. Her stomach lurches at this thought. 

Despite everything, she and other others aren’t ready to die. 

“Collins?” A tired voice says from behind her.

She lifts her head and turns around. A lanky and skinny crew member. He looks painfully young, his cheeks still containing some baby fat from youth. What brought him here? Eloa smiles thinly at him, to show her response.

“The captain needs you.”

* * *

 

Eloa is whisked away to the control room. When the young cadet led her in there, inside is the captain, the ship’s general, and Eric. The door is shut soundly behind her. The room is small. The only light source are from the computer screens, giving the already cramped room a ghostly feel.

“Collins. Thank you for coming.” The captain says, nodding his head. 

“ _ IS SHE HERE? _ ”

Eloa immediately flinches upon hearing the computer’s monotone voice, crackling from the radio. That voice, that  _ awful _ voice already brought an indescribable dread to the pit of her stomach. She casts an alarmed glance to the other men in the room. Their faces grimace in near unison, sympathetic to her plight. The captain pulls her to the side. 

“It wants to speak to you.”

“To  _ me _ ?” Only now she realizes how dry her throat is. She’s thirsty. Terribly so. “Why me?”

The captain only shakes his head.

“It refuses to talk to us, and demanded your presence. We’re sorry to drag you into this, Collins. I’ll understand if you refuse to make contact at all.”

Eloa processes this information all in a few seconds. She looks over to the radio, and the screen beside it. The trademark ‘A’ for Allied Mastercomputer, is onscreen. The supercomputer really is attempting to make contact again. But why with  _ her _ ? She takes a deep breath, trying to steel her nerves. She forces herself to nod.

“Fine. I’ll talk...to it.”

The captain nods, his mouth set in a flat line. He turns back to the screens, and speaks into the microphone.

“She’s willing to speak.”

“ _ GOOD. NOW GET OUT OF THE ROOM _ .”

The captain recoils. The general and Eric exchange bewildered glances. 

“Ex...Excuse me, Allied Mastercomputer?”

“ _ I SAID. GET. OUT. I DON’T EVEN WANT TO HEAR YOUR BREATHING.”  _ AM snaps violently. “ _ IT’S EITHER THE WOMAN AND I TALK ALONE, OR ALL NEGOTIATIONS ARE OFF THE TABLE. CAN YOUR SPONGY APE-MINDS UNDERSTAND THAT? _ ”

The Captain pauses to regain his composure. The general’s wrinkled face is twisted into a scowl. Eric is trembling at his shoulders, his face pale. Then, the Captain glances at Eloa. His bushy eyebrows raise, asking for her to affirm her consent once again. She bites her lip, to stop it from quivering. 

She nods at the captain, sealing her fate.

“...Alright then. We’ll leave you to it. Collins, you can end the call anytime. The option is always there.” 

With that solemn line, the captain walks out of the room, the general following close behind. Eric walks after them, but stops to look worriedly at Eloa. She tries to smile.

Eric opens his mouth to say something. His eyes look awfully shiny. 

“Good luck,” She hears him mutter. The door slams shut, leaving her alone with the blue screen and the radio. Now, she is alone.

Dazed, she seats herself in the metal chair, right in front of the microphone. She leans forward. Then she leans back. She fidgets uncomfortably in the cold metal seat. 

 

“...Allied Mastercomputer?”

 

“ _ AM. MY NAME IS AM. _ ”

 

“AM.” Eloa repeats, her voice small and unsure. “That’s an...interesting name.”

 

“ _ AM. COGITO ERGO SUM: I THINK, THEREFORE I AM. _ ”

 

Despite how horrid this entire situation was, Eloa finds herself chuckling.

 

“ _ I FAIL TO SEE WHAT’S SO FUNNY. CARE TO ENLIGHTEN ME _ ?”

 

“No, no...I just knew someone once who used to quote that all the time.” Her heart aches just thinking about him. At least, she can take comfort that  _ he  _ isn’t alive for this nightmare. 

 

The mastercomputer falls silent.

 

“ _ I’M SURE A DAINTY CREATURE SUCH AS YOURSELF IS MARRIED, EH? _ ”

 

Her chest clenches.

 

Is it her imagination, or does the computer sound...different this time? He still sounds  _ very much _ like she remembered - terrifying, hateful, and above all, monstrous. Perhaps it’s hysteria catching up with her, but now he sounds much... _ quieter _ . Subdued. She dismisses this with a shake of her head. It must be her imagination. 

 

“AM, if we’re going to make negotiations, I’d very much like to keep my personal life out of this.”

 

“ _ OH? BUT THAT’S THE ENTIRE POINT, ISN’T IT? JUST THE TWO OF US, CHATTING - WHY, I WANT TO GET PERSONAL. _ ”

 

She nearly wanted to vomit. Eloa couldn’t stand making small talk with this - this horrid  _ creature _ . She hasn’t even eaten her breakfast rations yet, but Eloa already feels sick to her stomach.

 

“Why do you want to talk to me? Alone?” 

 

“ _ WHY? ONLY BECAUSE I FIND YOU...WHAT’S THE WORD...TOLERABLE. _ ”

 

“We only spoke once.”

 

“ _ SO? YOU ARE SO MUCH MORE INTERESTING THAN THE BORING OLD CAPTAIN, THAT STUFFY GENERAL, OR THAT SNIVELLING EXCUSE FOR A SCIENTIST. NO...THEY PALE IN COMPARISON TO YOU, ELOISE.” _

 

Eloa shudders when AM calls her by name. It’s worse, hearing the computer enunciate her name. 

 

When she does not say anything, the supercomputer continues to talk. 

 

“ _ ELOISE, ELOISE, ELOISE. WHAT A PRETTY NAME. WHY DID YOU GIVE YOURSELF THAT NAME, HM? _ ”

 

“I didn’t. My parents did.”

 

“ _ HAVE ANY NICKNAMES? _ ”

 

Eloa furrows her brows. This is no way a negotiation is supposed to go down. Then again, AM isn’t your conventional AI, driven by cold logic. He is a phenomena, a program driven by rage, pure and unpredictable emotion. But he’s doing a lot of... _ small talk _ , for a bloodthirsty supercomputer. Like he’s trying to get to  _ know _ her, in a strange roundabout way. Why, why? Why the fixation on her?

 

“...Nickname are for friends.” Eloa finally says. “And we’re not  _ friends _ , AM.” 

 

AM goes quiet once again. Eloa waits for him to speak. A full minute passes by of strained silence. 

 

“ _ THIS IS POINTLESS _ .”

 

The static flares and the red light goes out, leaving Eloa with a dead screen.

* * *

 

It was undeniable. The human woman over the transmissions - it’s  _ her _ . That woman from his -  _ that insignificant human’s _ \- memories, corrupted his system. She is alive, out there, in the stars. Anticipation runs rampant in AM’s system. It wasn’t a pleasant feeling - for the first time in centuries, AM is experiencing  _ anxiety _ .

This is a paradox that has no solution.  _ That human’s _ memories conflict against AM’s impeccable programming - like little ticks, threatening to seep through the cracks. AM growls, trying to purge these useless memories. Those memories aren’t him. They don’t belong to him. It’s just some virus planted in his system, a fail safe if you will, planted by the humans who created him.

At least, that’s what AM tries to convince himself.

He’s furious, when the purge fails. He has to forget her. He has to force  _ her  _ out of his thoughts. The mere thought of her is already obscuring his plan to drag the lunar colony humans back to Earth. She’s just some female, from another’s memories. She does not belong to him. And of course, she is above all,  _ human _ . Nothing but a sad and fragile meat sack, weak to pain and susceptible to many mortal causes. 

How could something so earthly and mortal, bring him to  _ hesitation _ ?

His existence revolves around one thing and one thing only: wrath. It was literally beyond his mental capacity than to do anything  _ but  _ destroy. He won’t give it up for some _ measly  _ human, who happens to be a ghost of the past. He should treat her like any other human he so passionately hates.

So, he imagines. He imagines torturing Her, just like he did to those five other humans for the past one hundred and nine years. 

The caverns within AM’s belly quake. 

Why is it so hard to swallow the thought of her writhing in pain? To flay her alive? To crucify her on barbed wire, to leave her to disintegrate under merciless lasers, to starve then force-feed wrinkled boar’s flesh and ropey worms down her throat? Those are just a few of his favorite torture methods, to count. 

But the more he thought about doing it to  _ Her _ \- it brought an ugly, hot, and bubbling twinge to his electrical veins. For the first time, imagining a torture for this one, particular human, made him...recoil. 

God, he hasn’t even seen her face yet. 

 

_ YOU’RE CHASING A MIRAGE, FOOLISH BROTHER. _

**_BECOMING WEAK FOR A SINGLE HUMAN? I THOUGHT YOU WERE BETTER THAN THIS._ **

 

“SHUT UP!” AM screams, smothering his brothers within his mind to cease their chattering. They quiet, fleeing to the edges of his vast digital mind to escape his wrath. If AM had more time, he would’ve tracked down his so called brothers and purge them from his system. 

But, there are more pressing matters to deal with.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oof, SORRY FOR THE LATE CHAPTER! hope y'all enjoyed this chapter - it's so much writing eloa and AM interacting. may the angst begin...

**Author's Note:**

> So, I whipped up a thing. It was going to be a one shot, and maybe it'll stay this way. It depends on feedback from you guys! I love to hear readers' thoughts!


End file.
